January 18

We start hiking at midnight so we can get good footing on the frozen ground. The next 12 hours are an indescribable hell. The mothers in my group compared it to giving birth. The best I can do is liken it to waking up with the worst hangover of your life, except instead of sleeping in and doing nothing all day, you are woken up at midnight to hike uphill for eight hours in temperatures around -15 degrees Fahrenheit on no food in the past 24 hours. And of course, despite the fact that we could see hardly any snow on the peak on the way up, we summitted in an all-out blizzard. It felt like we were walking for survival the second day of a nuclear winter. Very surreal.

My head thought it was a cement mixer and my eyelashes (the only part of my body exposed) were frozen-white icicles. Every five-minute break we took I sat down and fell asleep against my backpack, despite reprimands from my guide. I slept not due to fatigue, but because it was the only possible reprieve from the headache. But I made it to Uhuru peak, the highest point in Africa (19,800ft). There’s less than 50% oxygen at the top, so there were no organized group shots or celebrating at all. It was get in and get out as fast as possible. The lack of a spectacular view (or any view for that matter) was very disappointing.

The way down was equally as painful. The scree was now loose and every slip-step on the way down sent my headache off. I got some help an hour away from camp when a porter met me to take my bag.

We rested at camp for a few hours (I still couldn’t find the stomach to eat) and then set off for another three-hour hike down to a lower camp. Already feel much better upon arrival and ate a full meal for the first time in 48 hours. Delicious soup, rice, beef stew and fresh fruit. We have our first “washy washy” in a few days. I’m not sure how many of the staff know that “washy washy” isn’t exactly how us westerners would phrase it?